


Tell me I'm an angel, Take this to my grave

by SevenSquids



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Adopted Children, Angst, Daddy Issues, Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Swearing, i'll add more later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenSquids/pseuds/SevenSquids
Summary: I'll edit this later
Kudos: 3





	Tell me I'm an angel, Take this to my grave

Micah slid her phone back into her pocket as she pushed open her bedroom door. It’s been a while since she’s been in here, but it still looked the same. As she took a seat on the edge of her bed, she thought of all the nights she wished she was back here, with all the lights off and the fan on. She was finally able to enjoy the comforts of her room again, but she just couldn’t bring herself to be happy about it. After all, she’d be leaving by night, and then she’d never get to sleep in her bed again. She’d have a new bed, in a new room. The only reason she’s back in her old room is to pack her stuff. Necessities go in the suitcase to go with her, everything else goes into labeled boxes to be shipped off later. Anything not in a box or the suitcase will be donated or thrown away. Micah sat for a moment more before picking up her bluetooth speaker and connecting her phone. Rather than picking a specific playlist, she just went to the ‘All Songs’ section and pressed shuffle. Many of her playlists had designated moods, and how could she pick a mood if she didn’t know how she felt. The easiest choice is to listen to everything at once, all the moods mixing and clashing. Yeah, that was easy. And so is deciding what to keep and what to throw out. She’d always known what she wanted to get rid of, mainly big ugly furniture pieces that were already there when she took over the room. What she did want to keep? Her tv, her desk chair that cost $100, her little makeshift table she found at the thrift store, and, among other things, her two 4ft giraffe dolls that stand on their own. One of the giraffes belonged to Micah’s sister, but she doesn’t currently have room for it. She’ll get it back eventually.

Packing had always been something that Micah considered to be fun. If she had a trip, she’d want to start packing a week before. But now, as she packed up her life as she knew it, it only felt appropriate to move at a snail’s pace, taking her time picking up each and every object before deciding where to put it. She even went the extra mile of folding her clothes, something she normally never does, in order to stall the inevitable. It has just barely been an hour since she started packing, but it felt like forever, like it would never end. If Micah didn’t know any better she might think she’d be here, all alone, packing until the day she died. But that wasn’t right. No. She wasn’t supposed to be alone right now, somebody was supposed to be here with her. She doesn’t know who though, it could be a police officer, a social worker, maybe the poor souls who decided to adopt her. She wasn’t moving too far, only 30 minutes away from where she used to live, but she couldn’t drive. Somebody was supposed to be here to drive her to her new house. Where were they? Speaking of, _who_ were they? She had only met them once while half asleep and couldn’t even remember their face, nor could she be bothered to get to know them before signing the adoption papers. She was 17, after all. This may have been her only chance to escape the foster system. Even shitty abusive parents were better than being homeless in her opinion. So, why is nobody here? Being late could really sour a reputation in Micah’s eyes, especially when it’s for something this important.

Micah has finished packing everything that was in her room. All that was left was to grab the few things that she had upstairs. She knew she wanted to bring all her soap and skincare products with her, she also needed to get her birth certificate and social security card. She turned off her music and opened the door to her bedroom. Micah couldn’t help but think of the time she learned about the truth of her bedroom door. It was actually shorter than an average door. Her mom had told her this while they were having a conversation about how Micah had to bend down to open the door while wearing platform shoes. Her entire room was actually built by her mom, with some help from a creepy ex-friend. It was originally built for her older brother when he came home from college, but he got an apartment and no longer needed it. That was when Micah took over the room, gladly moving all her stuff into the cold basement. Thinking about how the room that her mom built with her own hands would be going to somebody else made Micah’s chest tighten. All the work her mom put into this house. She updated the bathroom sink, built a room in the basement, transformed an indoor porch into a livable room. She even built a deck and a garden to grow her own vegetables. She did all this in order to sell the house for more than she bought it for, and she didn’t even get to sell it. But honestly, does it really matter? Her mom’s dead, she can’t feel sad about not getting to sell the house. Micah sure didn’t care about selling a house. All she cared about was climbing the stairs. Gathering her toiletries. Grabbing whatever food she wanted from the kitchen, nobody else would be eating it. Her pink oven mitts she got for Christmas, she cared about those. She didn’t care about her mom’s room. She didn’t, she only needed to get her legal documents. Under the bed, in a lockbox. An envelope labeled “Elsie”, she cared about that. She definitely didn’t care about her mom’s reborn dolls, her siblings would take care of them. Micah didn’t care about her mom’s jewelry either, but she couldn’t help but look through it. Not because she cared, she was just curious. Most of the jewelry wasn’t to Micah’s taste anyway, she knew that, but there was one necklace. It was a small silver necklace, with two small, hollow hearts interlocked. One of the hearts was white, while the other was black. Micah didn’t care about this necklace, it was pretty, that was all. It didn’t matter that it was her mom’s favorite necklace, she just liked it. And so, she put it in her pocket, so the pretty necklace could be hers.

Micah stepped out of her mom’s room and gently closed the door, trying not to care about anything. That was hard though, it required a lot of focus, so much so that she didn’t notice the couple walking up to the front door through the open curtains in the living room. Lost in her own little world, Micah couldn’t help but jump at the knock on the front door. It actually scared her a lot more than she originally thought, which became evident as she made her way to the front door on shaky legs. She gently lifted her timid hands to the handle and unlocked the door before turning the handle and stepping back. She brought her eyes up to look at the people at the door. They definitely weren’t police officers, and they didn’t look like social workers, the only option left was her new parents. They weren’t really her parents though. Micah turned her head away from the couple after only a few seconds, opting instead to look at the many clocks they had on the wall. They had a story behind them, just like everything else in this house. It was full of peculiar stories. Micah chose to focus on the house in order to avoid the itching feeling in her brain that she know’s these people. It was weird. She’d only met these people once in her life, and yet she couldn’t help but almost recognize them. It was on the tip of her tongue, and that bothered her.

“Have you packed everything?”

Micah felt thankful that the couple had spoken up, because she definitely didn’t plan on talking anytime soon. She only nodded in response.

“You didn’t strain yourself trying to pack, did you? We don’t want you to get hurt any more than you already are.”

As if on cue, Micah felt the cast that surrounded her left arm and every little cut and bruise she had ached and burned. She had almost forgotten about them, but only shook her head to say she’s okay, choosing to remain nonverbal.

The man of the couple gently touched Micah’s shoulder, the way you’d touch a broken vase you glued back together to see if it would fall apart again. Everybody felt awkward and timid and it showed in the way they spoke, or, in Micah’s case, didn’t speak. Micah decided to spare a glance in the man’s direction and saw that he wore a gentle expression on his face, more gentle than her biological father ever gave her. The thought of that man made her temporarily forget about her sadness, but it was replaced with anger. Micah walked towards the basement door and out of the touch that she secretly wanted.

“My stuff’s down here,” she grumbled. The couple followed close behind as Micah walked down the stairs and entered her bedroom.

“Is this your stuff?” The woman asked, gesturing to the suitcase.

Micah nodded, unable to restrain herself from thinking about how stupid that question was. Of course that was her stuff, this was all her stuff.

“We cleaned out our car before we came,” the man began, “so we have room for a few of these boxes if there’s anything else you’d like to bring today. We’ll come back and get everything else tomorrow.”

Micah looked around at all the stuff she could possibly take with right now.

“Okay,” she muttered, “I’ll take my tv and the big dolls.”

“Is that all?” the man asked.

“We can take the small dolls if there’s room”

The couple quickly went to work picking stuff up. The woman grabbed the suitcase and the giant flat dog, while the man stacked the two large bear dolls on top of the box of small dolls and picked it all up at once. Micah sighed before grabbing her yellow dog pillow, medium-sized frog doll, and homemade doll affectionately names Proto-Goat. She walked up the stairs slowly, stomping her foot down purposefully on each step. Walking through the living room and out the front door she took small steps and drug her feet, but she couldn’t do anything more once she reached the couple’s car. She loaded up her dolls into the trunk and trudged her way back up the path that led to the front door. She reluctantly locked up the house one last time before she left it forever, and made her way back to the car. She sat in the backseat, on the passenger side. The car was rather nice. It was a sedan, but it didn’t feel cramped like some cars did. It had plenty of legroom and the seats were rather comfortable. Looking to the front of the car, the dashboard gave off the impression that this wasn’t a cheap car by any means. Maybe the family has some money. Sitting next to Micah in the back seat was one of her large bears, with a blanket draped over it. That was most likely intentional. Micah fastened her seatbelt as the couple entered the car, with the man on the driver’s side. They buckled as well and started the car. Micah couldn’t help but feel oddly vulnerable and exposed with the seatbelt pressing against her normally loose clothes. She glanced at the bear next to her once more before pulling it a little closer to her so she could lean on it and wrap the blanket around herself.

Sitting in the back seat had its pros and cons. Cons? It was hard to get a good look at the two people sitting in the front seat. Pros? The rearview mirror makes it easy to look at the diver’s face without them noticing. Micah has always known this, as long as the driver doesn’t try to look at you through the mirror, they’ll never know you’re looking at them. Micah has been staring at the man driving for the past five minutes and she was almost certain she knew who he was, but she didn’t want to admit it. It seemed fake. Nobody has said anything since the car ride started, and Micah felt suffocated. She was paranoid of every little noise she made, she didn’t want anybody to hear them. Thank god for radio. Though, the man turned the radio down right after she thought that, it was almost as if he had read Micah’s mind.

“You’re not too cold are you?” The man questioned.

Micah only mumbled quietly, “No.” She only just now realized she probably looked cold, huddling against the bear, hiding half her face under the blanket.

The man nodded. “I don’t know if you remember, since you were pretty tired when we told you, but we have a daughter. She younger than you but she’s always cold but never tells us. Just let me know if you get cold, I can turn the heat on.”

Micah didn’t respond. If anything she was too hot, but she didn’t want to say anything. She was under a blanket, after all, she didn’t have to be under the blanket. However, Micah wasn’t currently thinking about her body temperature. Rather, she was thinking about how the couple had a child, younger than her. That left her with questions. Why would they adopt if they already had a kid? Why would they give their daughter an older sibling instead of a younger sibling? Was Micah going to experience what it’s like to be an older sibling? Micah had four siblings already, and she was younger than all of them. Though, the thought louder than all of the questions was the one screaming the names of the couple in the front seat. She was so certain that she was right, but she wasn’t so sure she even wanted to be right about this. If she was right, it may only complicate things further. If these people truly wanted to be Micah’s family it was going to require a lot of hard work. Micah is an introvert. She’s been dreading the moment she met her new family. But, if these people were who she thought they were, Micah didn’t even want to think about how she’d act around them. She’d have to become nocturnal, not that that’d be hard for her. She’d have to sneak around their house in the dark hours of the night in order to avoid accidentally coming into contact with one of them. She had to avoid talking to them at all costs.

Micah balled her hands into fists and brought them up to rub her eyes, attempting to rub away the stress. Even if only for a little while, she wanted to pretend like she’d be able to talk to them like normal people. She’d probably have to talk to them when she got to their house anyway. It’d probably be time to eat dinner by the time they got there, she couldn’t avoid them then. Though, as Micah moved her fist back down and opened her eyes she realized how heavy they felt. She was tired. Maybe she’d be able to fall asleep before they tried to feed her. She didn’t have an appetite anyway.

The first thing Micah noticed when she arrived at her new home was the size. It was much bigger than she was used to. Four stories. She didn’t even know that was a thing. She was given a quick tour of the house from the woman while the man unloaded her stuff, quick meaning she knows where the kitchen, her bedroom, and her bathroom is. She’d have more time to look around tomorrow, for now, she was just supposed to get settled in for the night. Her room didn’t have much in it, just a bed and two dressers. She didn’t even have enough clothes to fill two dressers. The bed already had a pillow and sheets, and the blanket she had in the car. The room had three doors, one led out, one led to a closet, and one led to her own personal bathroom. Micah had never had her own bathroom before, but she had always wanted one. She could use it right now if she wanted, she definitely needed to shower, but she was tired. All she wanted to do was go to bed, and maybe never wake up. She didn’t want to sleep on the floor though, so she drug her heavy body to the bed before collapsing on it. Her legs were still hanging off, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t thinking about her legs, but rather the fact that the bed was firm. Micah strongly preferred a firm mattress. Was it just a crazy coincidence? Did they somehow know what kind of mattress she liked?

Micah laid for a few minutes, contemplating. The mattress, moving further onto the bed, changing. She decided she would change, then she would lay on the bed again, but this time her legs would also be on the bed. But first, she had to get up, or not. Micah slowly slid off the bed, landing on the floor next to her suitcase. She reached around to unzip it so she could get to her clothes. Most people would probably think she’s already in pajamas, considering she’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, but it’s not what she usually slept in. Truth be told Micah always slept in sweatpants and a bra, no shirt, but she didn’t feel comfortable doing that right now. So she dug around her suitcase to find her sweatshirt. The only difference between a hoodie and a sweatshirt is that a sweatshirt doesn’t have a hood on it, which makes it more comfortable to sleep in. That’s why Micah just dumped her whole suitcase on the ground, to find the slightly more comfortable shirt. She also found her phone charger, which she tossed on her bed so she wouldn’t forget to charge her phone. Though, while digging through her suitcase she came across the envelope she took from her mom’s room. Micah felt compelled to look inside it, but she wasn’t sure why. She just needs to check and make sure her stuff is actually in there since she didn’t check when she grabbed it. Yeah, that sounded rational. Micah carefully opened the envelope and looked at its contents. Her social security card was in there, safe and sound, along with her birth certificate. She was wanted to just put it down and get ready for bed, but she couldn’t. Micah pulled her birth certificate out of the envelope, unsure of what exactly she was doing, and unfolded it. As Micah looked at her birth certificate, she couldn’t help but feel bad. She’d always hated her birth name, she still does, but now she feels bad about hating it. Her mom gave it to her, as a gift, and she tossed it out and went by her middle name instead. She wished she’d appreciated it while her mom was still alive. Even though she may not like it, her mom did. Her mom loved it. Her mom loved a lot of things, like frogs, and dark chocolate. Micah could feel her walls breaking down, but she couldn’t seem to put the damned piece of paper down. She kept staring at it, thinking of her mom while her emotions raised exponentially. And there Micah sat, crying on the floor, going to bed long forgotten, as she remembered all the memories she made with her mom. The good, the bad, she’d give anything to have it back, as cliche as it sounds. Everything she had been trying to avoid all day has finally caught up with her.


End file.
